


Reach for My Hand

by escamas_carmesi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Feels, El and Byleth are little old ladies, F/F, Far Future, Implied/Referenced Suicide, end of life, someday ill have a beta but not today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 20:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escamas_carmesi/pseuds/escamas_carmesi
Summary: Edelgard was not one to comfort herself with pretty lies. She had always preferred the ugly truth. But the truth was she knew her wife was dying, her body slowly decreasing its function until the day it would cease for good.Or how every Beginning needs an End.





	Reach for My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, so here's my third entry for Edeleth week. The theme I chose is "back to back" in the sense of sequentially, one right after the other. 
> 
> This fic takes place over several decades after the end of Crimson Rose, when their days as heroes have long passed and all they keep from their younger selves is their love. After leaving the future of Fodlan in capable hands, Edelgard finally stepped down to enjoy her retirement. In this fic, they settled down in Derdriu.
> 
> I always appreciate feedback :D

The children of Derdriu are known for many things, but their discretion is not one of them. That is why it wasn’t particularly shocking to her that it was one of the rambunctious children playing in a group, one of the younger rascals, that went beyond the normal wide-eyed stares, walked up to her with his big, wide eyes and asked “Are you a ghost?”

Byleth had gotten many weird questions in her time, and this one didn’t particularly surprise her. At this point in her life, an unnervingly long one by Fodlan standards, every year she defeated death increased the question unspoken, of whether something superhuman kept her in this realm. Unspoken and unaddressed, until a child’s curiosity and sincerity got the best of him. She smiled fondly at him and said “No, I am not a ghost. I am just old, and very stubborn. I made a promise that I intend to keep, so I can’t leave yet.” Another child in the group, slightly older and wiser, but just as impertinent as his comrade, asked in disbelief “you must be like a hundred years old. What could there _possibly_ be that you haven’t done yet and still need to do?” Humoring the question-it’s not like she was in any hurry to continue her way, and even less like she had any embarrassment left at this point- she replied:

“When I was much younger, almost as young as you, I fought in the Great War. It was a very difficult time for everyone. And at one point, I got separated from my beloved for several years. When I returned to her, I made a vow: that I would never leave her alone ever again. When I was at my most tired, my most hurt, I told myself ‘you can’t die yet, you can’t die here. You have a promise to keep’. And so, I didn’t die. Because I couldn’t leave my El alone. Then the war ended, but my promise didn’t. I’ve kept that promise for over 50 years, and I don’t intend to break it now.” Gingerly, she kept her smile and kept heading home. The children observed her a little longer and then went back to their ball game. The old lady had strolled these streets for much longer than any of them had been alive. It was almost weird to think that maybe one day, she wouldn’t anymore.

The waves caressing the cobblestone streets kept their placid pace among the serene early afternoon. Byleth walked as serenely knowing that El would be waiting for her at home.

There was a logic, a rhythm, a pace to the peace in this laid back neighborhood of the city. When you grew up here, there were some things you just knew to expect: the smell of bread wafting from the bakery in the corner; the rains that overwhelmed most of the roads every Wyvern Moon; and old Byleth walking to that bakery and coming out with a box of pastries for their tea time, every day, in the early afternoon. As she had done for years, possibly for decades. Which is why it was so jarring to the neighborhood when Byleth didn’t go get her wife’s pastries anymore. The children noticed and felt her absence immediately; one day, two days, three days, one week without the _pit pat_ of her cane down the cobblestone, without her taking some time to sit and just watch the children play, lost in their bubbling joy, their sheer zest for life. The children spoke among themselves and they agreed they wanted to go to the Byleth’s home, knock on the door and ask Eldelgard how she was doing. But they also agreed that whatever the answer was, it would haunt them.

Edelgard was not one to comfort herself with pretty lies. She had always preferred the ugly truth. But the truth was she knew her wife was dying, her body slowly decreasing its function until the day it would cease for good. Edelgard could not begrudge the goddess if she deemed it time for Byleth to go. Both had been blessed with a very long and happy life together, something made even more incredible considering she was convinced during the war that she was already on borrowed time. And yet, Edelgard could not imagine a time on this world without _her._ She had rued and grieved every death of every friend, and even the children of some of those friends. She was painfully aware that it had been several years that Byleth and her were all that remained of the legendary Black Eagle Strike Force. But the one constant in her life since she was 17 was Byleth’s presence and the importance she held in her life. When Byleth reappeared at the Goddess Tower after her five year slumber, she had made a promise that had made Edelgard’s cheeks as crimson as her dress. She had promised to hold her hand as for as long as Edelgard desired it. As long as it was at Her Majesty’s pleasure, Byleth would walk beside her forever. It is quite possible Byleth did not realize how such a promise sounded to a young girl in love, but for the first time in many years, Edelgard allowed herself to indulge in the hope that she had the honor of being loved. 

The weeks of Byleth’s decline were hard for many reasons. Edelgard hated seeing her Byleth, her sword and her shield, so feeble. She took care of her dear teacher fastidiously, and made sure she was as comfortable and happy as she could. During the fevers and the bouts of delirium, Byleth would show her fear. She was not afraid of dying. She was afraid of the encounter she would have with Sothis if she indeed was the arbiter of every soul. Would her friend understand why she did why she did? Would she blame Byleth for her daughter’s death? Would the ghosts of Rhea and Catherine fight her for retribution? She would babble about these things as her wife put the damp clothes on her forehead. Byleth called out for Jeralt, seeking the parental comfort that she lost over half a century ago. The former Emperor decided her future there and then.

Edelgard summoned her children and grandchildren who were scattered across Fodlan. The news of Byleth’s decline had many of them traveling as fast as possible. Edelgard received the family members one by one, and soon her house was louder and livelier than it had been in many years. Edelgard spoke to her eldest child and made her decision known. With her will conveyed, she retrieved her distinctive horned crown, the one remnant of her ruling days that she kept. The crown felt heavy on her head, evidence that the years had caught up to her almost as much as they caught up with her other half. She sat next to Byleth, and waited.

_Alea Iacta Est._

When the last breaths were upon her, Byleth looked one last time at her wife and said “I’m sorry I’m not keeping my promise”. Drinking from a goblet next to her, Edelgard cooed to her lover’s ear “Don’t worry, my teacher, my Byleth, for you did keep your promise. You reached for my hand and never left me to walk alone in life. I am not leaving you to walk alone whatever is to come. The aconite will work soon enough, and I’ll make sure Sothis knows who she needs to be angry at. Like everything else, we are in this together.”

The neighborhood children heard soon enough from the family members gathered there that both of the little old ladies in that house had passed away. But whispers among them abounded that the ladies died with their hands holding and serene looks on their faces.

Because whatever they were facing, they would once again face it together.


End file.
